The shock value of The Book of Mormon may fade, but its bracing satire and sweetness might well last as long as any Rodgers and Hammerstein cross-cultural classic. The long-awaited national tour of the Broadway blockbuster opened last night to much laughter and applause at the Ohio Theatre.

Michael Grossberg, For The Columbus Dispatch

The shock value of The Book of Mormon may fade, but its bracing satire and sweetness might well last as long as any Rodgers and Hammerstein cross-cultural classic.

The long-awaited national tour of the Broadway blockbuster opened last night to much laughter and applause at the Ohio Theatre.

Riotous and edgy, this devilishly funny musical is just what one would expect from the South Park creators (Trey Parker and Matt Stone) and the Avenue Q co-creator (Robert Lopez) — except this dream team is so imaginative and clever that you really don’t see some of the best plot twists and sight gags coming.

Briskly directed by Casey Nicholaw and Parker with impish pokes at propriety but also a surprising humanity, the two act, 2 1/2 hour musical charts the ups and downs of faith, hope, cruel disappointment and cockeyed redemption.

Yet, one can detect beneath its gleeful excesses a compassionate optimism about the difference that belief and decency can make in a fallen world.

Mark Twain, that great American skeptic of church and state, surely would have recognized the kindred creative spirits in this musical while savoring its spirited refusal to evade the harshest elements of life amid a savvy coming-of-age tale of innocents abroad.

If any show must be recommended only for mature audiences, though, it’s this one — and not only because the 2011 Tony winner for best musical tests the X-rated limits with extreme profanity, raunchy sexuality and blasphemy. More than almost any musical I can recall, The Book of Mormon balances outrageous lows with life-affirming highs.

As choreographer, Nicholaw devises distinctive moments and movements that define wildly varying characters — from the Africans shimmying with joy and anger to the straitlaced, straight (and not-so-straight) Mormon missionaries in their creased black pants and pressed white shirts.

Perhaps the best song-and-dance number is Turn It Off, led by Grey Henson’s jerky Elder McKinley as a brilliant ode to emotional (and sexual) repression.

Mark Evans and Chris O’Neill lead a terrific ensemble cast that bring to life ancient Biblical figures, modern Mormon elders, African villagers and even a few figures from modern mythology — including Darth Vader.

The pair of Mormon missionaries, who go from Utah to Uganda, are a classic odd couple.

As short and dumpy sidekick Elder Cunningham, Chris O’Neill becomes the impulsive unleashed id to the controlling super-ego-tist of Mark Evans’ tall and thin Elder Price. Imagine a Mutt and Jeff, or Laurel and Hardy updated to the more narcissistic and needy America of the 21st century.

Jeffrey David Sears scores in multiple roles from Joseph Smith to Price’s worrying dad, while Josh Breckenridge registers strongly in humor and horror as an African doctor afflicted by an almost-unmentionable disease.

Ann Roth’s wickedly funny costumes reach their blithe apogee — or is it a devilish nadir? — in the second act’s Spooky Mormon Hell Dream. The amusing fantasia, complete with dancing cups of coffee (which Mormons aren’t supposed to drink), approaches the whimsical mania of Be Our Guest from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast.

We knew those South Park and Avenue Q guys were wise guys, but who knew they were wise?

To its credit, The Book of Mormon ventures beyond cheap shots at the seemingly silliest ideas of one religion to seriously explore and affirm the power of belief (amid doubt), the trials of innocence (and experience), the fertility of imagination (and brute necessity) and the healing magic of laughter (amid suffering).

On a second viewing after Broadway, some of the initial shocks and surprises do start to wear off. Yet, the affectionate satire and underlying themes of this latter-day hit are likely to linger.